Happy 6th Birthday to My Sweet Girl

Today, you are six. In fact, I’ve scheduled this post to publish at 5:53 a.m., the minute you made your way into this world – the minute I first saw your face and held you in my arms.

You’ve been an early bird since day one, waking me with contractions at 2:30 in the morning that day. Less than four hours later, you were here. When you put your mind to something, you’re determined. You’ve been in a rush since the day you were born. Still, to this day, sometimes I can’t keep up with you, and it’s certainly not for lack of trying! I realize I say this every year. Maybe next year, you’ll be less of a morning person and I won’t start your letter the same way!

This past year was a big year for you – you went to kindergarten. I wasn’t entirely sure you were ready. Sure, I thought you were READY, but every time I put a pencil in your hand, asking, pleading you to write something, you resisted. Turns out, you can totally do it – you just have to want to. You took kindergarten by storm, learning to read this year was a HUGE milestone (one that makes me insanely happy). Your teacher adored you, and said to me one day, “Her personality… she’s really funny.” To which I smiled, and said, “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

Because you are. You’re really funny. You love attention. You love to entertain. You’ve been asking lately for ballet lessons, and my gosh, I can picture you on a stage. But I haven’t decided about lessons yet. You’ve been loving swim lessons, and I like sticking with that for now. We’ll see, okay?

Your first (second, third and fourth) plane ride was this month – what an amazing traveler you are. It’s kind of nice to experience travel through the eyes of someone who is still amazed at the process – how you get in a metal tube, and then you’re in the air! I loved watching you look out the windows at the world below. I’m not a great flyer, you know – but I hope it didn’t show. I don’t want you to be scared of it like I am. I like your fearlessness. I like your courage. I like how you have no qualms about trying new things (from mangoes to roller coasters) . I admire that about you. Seems silly for a mommy to say that – but sometimes I think I could learn a lot from you.

You have the most breathtaking eyes I have ever seen. They are a clear blue with a darker circle around the iris and when I see your eyes, I feel at home. You are loving and affectionate. You like to be held, you like to cuddle. You can sense when a hug is needed and you’ll race to be the one to give it. I never grow tired of your hugs.

Sometimes when I kiss you goodnight, you press your hand to your lips or your cheek, as if to press my kiss in, to save it for later. I love to end my day that way.

You can be a stinker too, missy, and I know you know this. Sometimes the amount of noise, energy and anger that comes out of your little body stuns me. The other day at Starbucks I called you my little Grumpelstilsken. Sometimes you are.

You love people and love to play. I feel badly that there aren’t more (or ANY!) kids your age in our neighborhood for you to play with. You see your sister hanging out with her friends – your common refrain is, “It’s NO FAIR. HOW COME SHE GETS TO PLAY WITH HER FRIENDS AND I CAN’T?!” (And yes, you do it in a big all caps voice). It makes me sad – because I wish you had friends in our neighborhood, that you had the same kind of instant playdate nearby as your sister does. Maybe someday.

You love chocolate milk. You love dogs, especially German Shepherds. You love to dance. You love watching streaming cartoons on Netflix, these days Angelina Ballerina has your eye. You love to go to the library – especially looking for nonfiction books about dogs and animals. You actually know more about animals and dogs than anyone I have ever met. You can list a specie of dog for almost every letter of the alphabet. That blows me away. You like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and you never eat the crust. You can’t go to sleep at night until you’ve been read to and cuddled with. When you wake up in the middle of the night, you turn your CD player on – I’ve walked down the hall at midnight to hear your bedtime music coming from your room, having recently been restarted. You laugh when I crinkle my nose at you like a bunny. You write me notes and leave them on my nightstand. You give me stickers to wear and color pictures and leave them on my desk – or better yet, sometimes you let me choose which piece of art I want. I love it. Your creative and inquisitive mind makes me truly happy.

You make me happy.

I love you, Pumpkin. Today you are six, and I am so grateful for every day I’ve had with you.

Comments

You are so amazing and this letter to K is a priceless gift. I know when she is older she will cherish your words. Your words are better than any present she will receive. I admire you Sarah. You are special.